Blood Red Shadows
by WitchGirl
Summary: Beauty’s in the eyes of the beholder. Harry must see the wickedness within this lovely girl; or else he may find himself seduced by this child of darkness and could fall victim to her bloody curse. (BTW: Note the rating. A very dark fic. & REVIEW SVP!!!
1. Prologue: The Pact

Blood Red Shadows  
  
Summary: Beauty's in the eyes of the beholder. Harry must see the wickedness within this lovely girl; or else he may find himself seduced by this child of darkness and could fall victim to her bloody curse.  
  
Prologue:  
  
She threw back her head with a vicious cackle as loud as a banshee's scream as she looked over her prey. Her ivory fangs dripped with the vermilion liquid as she kicked aside the body. She would leave it to be found by the wizard authorities who would determine the cause of death as easily as they could count. However, it would be harder to determine who caused the death. Charms and spells would have to be cast to find the murderer and when they did, it would strike fear into their hearts.  
  
"There is a job for you…" the voice echoed in her head. She did not need any jobs; she worked alone. The nerve of him, asking her to assassinate someone just to please him. He was no higher than she was and just as dark. She spat on him. No matter what he said, no matter what he promised or threatened, she would never join him.  
  
Her yellow eyes flashed, ready to fight if necessary as she heard someone behind her approaching. Her underling jumped as she bared her teeth for the third time that night.  
  
"What is it?" she hissed. "Why do you disturb me, mortal?"  
  
"Forgive me, majesty, but the Dark Lord…"  
  
"Is of little importance to me."  
  
"He is of importance to the wizards, majesty. He terrifies your mortal followers."  
  
"Then do my dear mortals wish to take the last step to immortality?" A crooked smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. The poor man sighed with relief.  
  
"Yes, your highness, you are so marvelous, the men will be so happy and honored…" the man fell to his knees as the yellow-eyed beast approached him. He began kissing her feet and she tilted his head up so he could see those unnatural yellow eyes. She gave him a weak smile.  
  
"Dear, dear mortal," she sighed. "You are so unfortunate."  
  
"Unfortunate? Majesty, the men have dreamed of this day since they joined you! Oh majesty, the honor and the wonder it is to—"  
  
The poor man's breath was cut short as, with one hand, the demon dug her long red nails into his skin and twisted his skull, breaking his neck and killing him in an instant. Shaking her head and making a slight, clicking noise with her tongue, she threw the man aside.  
  
"So. My mortal followers fear the Dark Lord and think I will provide them with protection…" she thought to herself out loud. "Well then they are wrong, aren't they?" She directed this question at the man whom she had just murdered. "Anyone coming to me begging for protection out of fear will share a similar fate as you, my dear mortal companion. I respect bravery and it was one of the only things I do respect."  
  
"Then you should respect the boy." She whipped around at lightning speed and her yellow eyes flashed again with anger as she bared her fangs and hissed at the man before her.  
  
"I told you to leave this castle!" she screamed with fury. The man gave a weak smile and approached her. He caressed her cheek tenderly. To her own surprise, she didn't turn and snap his neck like she would to any other man who dare touch her that way.  
  
"I decided to stay on my own account. Kill me if you wish, though even you will find that a difficult task, Layla." She bent back her head as Lord Voldemort brushed her long, straight silver hair away from her neck as he kissed it softly. She suddenly moved away as if she just realized what he was doing.  
  
"You vile creature!" she cried. Voldemort looked down at the floor and shook his head with a slight smile.  
  
"Creature? I wouldn't be talking, Layla. I'm more human than you are."  
  
"What makes you believe you're human at all?" She returned. He didn't answer.  
  
"I have a job for you."  
  
"No."  
  
"You will take it."  
  
"No."  
  
"Layla…" Voldemort sighed the name. He felt as if he were speaking to a stubborn child. Little did he know, what was exactly how she saw him too. "I have killed the mortals in this castle—"  
  
"The others are the ones that matter to me most!" She screamed. Voldemort dismissed her words with a wave of his hand.  
  
"—And I have killed your precious children." Layla screamed in frustrated fury.  
  
"You BASTARD!" she screamed.  
  
"There is nothing left for you hear. My Death Eaters are waiting outside."  
  
"You will never have absolute power, Tom Riddle!" Layla spat.  
  
"You would be surprised. Follow my orders and you will not be harmed."  
  
"You cannot harm me."  
  
"Me alone, possibly not. But I have many Death Eaters behind me."  
  
"Mere mortals."  
  
"Over one hundred mere mortals can destroy a three-hundred-year-old vampyre." Layla was silent. He was forcing her to do this job. It must be really important to him. She tilted her head.  
  
"And what do I get for doing this job of yours?" she asked.  
  
"Your life."  
  
"That's all?"  
  
"And my respect. You can be my queen, Layla. But if not, I will never bother you again."  
  
"I can kill anyone I want?"  
  
"As long as you get to the boy and leave him to me. Do we have a deal?" The vampyre looked at the outstretched hand for a long time before she finally took it.  
  
And that's how the pact was made. 


	2. Like Cats' Eyes

A/N (PLEASE READ): OK, I missed this warning in the prologue. No, this is not a porn fic, sorry to disappoint you, though if you do not like student- teacher relationships or evil teachers or vampyres (or vampires) or people dying then I suggest you do not read this. I warned you I WARNED YOU so DON'T FLAME please!!!!!!  
  
Chapter One: Like Cats' Eyes  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom waiting for their new teacher. He hadn't been at the feast.  
  
Heads turned as Dumbledore appeared at the door with a young woman, surely no older than twenty-one years of age. She had soft shocking silver hair that fell to her waist. Her eyes were an icy blue and there was a warm grin on her face. She seemed happy to be there. Harry figured she was new to teaching. She was probably one of those eager, hyper kinds of teachers who want to get involved with every single student.  
  
"This is Professor Ferris. She will be your teacher this year. She's just joined the staff which is why she wasn't at the welcome feast," Dumbledore told the class. There was something about the way he said it… He was suspicious of her. But why?  
  
Dumbledore left Professor Ferris to the class. Ferris's eager grin was wide across her face and her eyes glistened with excitement.  
  
"Right!" she cried. "Now, first, let me lay down some rules and get to know all of you…"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"So what do you think of her?" asked Hermione. It was a few weeks after their first class with Professor Ferris and they were eating lunch in the Great Hall. "I think she's really good. She's very enthusiastic about what she's doing and seems very interested in what she's teaching. She seems to believe in it a lot. I love passionate teachers, you can really learn a lot from them."  
  
"Yeah, you can really learn a lot…" Ron rolled his eyes. "But she's beautiful, isn't she, Harry?" Harry couldn't deny this.  
  
"She seemed boring to me at first. Unlike Hermione, I don't like teachers who are bright and eager. They get kind of annoying. But you're right, what she teaches you… I don't know, but she speaks with, well, I don't know but it sounds like… experience. And she is really pretty." Harry grinned at his last words. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Whatever you say, you two. I can't believe all you're interested in are her looks. You two are just so… Well, you're just such… GUYS!"  
  
"Really Hermione?" said Ron. "I thought we were fish!"  
  
"Oh quiet you!" Hermione snapped. "Despite what you say, she's a brilliant teacher."  
  
"I'm not interested in what she has to teach me about defense…" Ron grinned and Hermione shot him a look. Harry burst out laughing.  
  
"Come on, Hermione!" he laughed. "Don't be so uptight! Relax a bit." Hermione sighed.  
  
"Maybe I should relax a bit…" then, a slight smile appeared across her face. "It'll get me ready for the Potions quiz we have after lunch." Ron and Harry stiffened as they remembered.  
  
"Damn!" Harry swore and was rewarded with a look from Hermione.  
  
"I forgot to study!" Ron groaned. Hermione grinned.  
  
"Now who needs to relax?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Harry, could you stay after class please?" Harry snapped out of his day dreaming as he noticed people beginning to put their books away.  
  
"Hm?" Was he in trouble? Had she caught him not paying attention? Ron and Hermione gave him a confused glance as they left the room. Ferris smiled kindly as they left. When they did, her head turned to Harry again, her smile gone. Harry frowned.  
  
"Was it something I did, Professor?" Harry asked. Ferris sat down behind her desk and rested her head on her hands. Her face was expressionless and her ice-blue eyes were inscrutable.  
  
"Harry, what did we talk about in class today?" Harry racked his brain. What did Hermione say was on the curriculum for the seventh years?  
  
"Um…"  
  
"I knew it."  
  
"It's not my fault Professor!" Harry cried. Ferris's eyebrows rose.  
  
"Oh really? How so?"  
  
"It's hot in here, Professor. I can't concentrate!" Ferris thought about this for a moment.  
  
"I suppose you're right. None the less, don't make it so obvious." She took off her robes as she said this, revealing a casual, but very lovely, blue dress. Harry blinked. She was a teacher, nothing more.  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
"There we go." Ferris gave him a weak smile. She stood up from behind the desk and began to walk slowly, watching him with a hawk's eyes, circling him like a shark. Harry's emerald eyes followed her wherever she went. "You're… what, seventeen?"  
  
"Yes, Professor."  
  
"What's with the formalities?" Ferris asked. "I am only Professor in class. In private, you may call me Layla."  
  
"I think I'd be more comfortable with Professor Ferris." Harry said, uncomfortable enough as it was. What was she doing? She had a sly and crafty smile on her lips and a look of mischief to her eye.  
  
"Very well, whichever suits you best. You're a good young man, Harry. Bright, sociable… handsome…"  
  
"Um… Thank you?" Harry didn't know how to respond to her. His unease increased as Professor Ferris— and that crafty smile— came nearer. Harry held his ground, looking straight ahead now. If he didn't see her, she wasn't there. He didn't turn as her soft pale finger traced a vein in his neck, though he did tense visibly. Ferris laughed.  
  
"There is no need to be nervous, my dear." She spoke with that air she used in class, that of wisdom and experience. Like she knew what was happening and what she was doing. Her crimson lips leaned in close to his ear. "I know all your secrets, Harry Potter."  
  
"Professor…" Harry said, trying to keep his voice calm. "If you're doing what I think you're doing…"  
  
"What do you think I'm doing?" again, she whispered the words in his ear.  
  
"You're my teacher, Layla!" said Harry, using her first name. Layla Ferris smiled.  
  
"There we go."  
  
"You're my teacher!" he repeated. "You can't… we can't… How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty."  
  
"I'm three years younger than you."  
  
"What's your point?" her delicate hand found his chin and gently, she turned his head to look at her. Harry's mouth was open, but he didn't know what to say. He was going to refuse, he was going to run, maybe even tell someone about what Ferris was doing. But when he looked at her, his mouth wouldn't form the words and his legs wouldn't move. She was so beautiful.  
  
"I…" but before he could try and say anything, Layla's lips touched his in a hard kiss. When they finally broke away, Harry still didn't know what to do. Layla was smiling. Unsure of whether to run or to kiss her again, he said,  
  
"Maybe I should go now…" He began to walk towards the door.  
  
"No, stay." Layla sighed and looked at her feet. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just find myself very attracted to you."  
  
"You're very attractive, Professor," said Harry. "And believe me, if you were anyone else… But you're my teacher!"  
  
"No one has to know."  
  
"Won't this effect my grades?" Harry asked but Layla shook her head. Harry sighed. She was very attractive. And she definitely liked him. It didn't have to go very far. Slowly, he walked back over to her and she approached him. When they were close, they stood there for a moment. Layla caressed his cheek and Harry felt her warm hand against his skin as it moved down his neck and then down his back and she pulled him into another kiss.  
  
That was it. She had trapped him. It was done, he could not escape now.  
  
Harry hadn't realized how attracted he really was to the young student teacher until that evening. Why was she so young anyway? Harry didn't know that people that young could teach Defense Against Dark Arts. At least not the way she taught it…  
  
Layla had other things on her mind their lips locked in a passionate kiss. She was hungry. She moved down his neck, kissing it softly when she finally found a nice and plump vein, flowing with the thick, life essence. Slowly and ever so carefully, she bared her pointed fangs and as gently as she could she penetrated his skin, drinking slowly some of Harry's blood. After she had drunk all she needed to sustain herself until the next night, she bit her tongue and let a drop of her own blood fall on the open wound. She did not want people noticing it. Her impeccable immune system would heal the wound over night.  
  
As Harry pulled away from Layla, he noticed that her eyes were an unnatural shade of yellow. They reminded him of…  
  
"Crookshanks…" he muttered. They were like cat's eyes, with large black pupils. But her eye color mattered very little to him. But when he looked again, they were their usual blue color. The cat's eyes had disappeared and she was just Layla, his teacher, his lover… and his destruction. 


	3. Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Chapter Two: Mirror, Mirror On the Wall  
  
True to her word, Layla didn't let her relationship with Harry outside of class get in the way of her relationship with Harry in class. She acted her normal, eager self in class and was no warmer towards Harry than towards any other student in the class. Though one time, when she was handing out papers, Harry saw a slight smile on her pale face as she passed his desk.  
  
"And Mr. Potter…" she said, handing him the paper with a wink. No one else seemed to have noticed.  
  
However, needless to say, Harry's friends did notice his change in his attitude. And it would be lying to say they weren't suspicious.  
  
"Why do you spend so much time with Professor Ferris?" Ron asked at breakfast one Saturday morning.  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, well, she's given me detention."  
  
"What? For what?" Hermione cried.  
  
"Um, well, I wasn't really paying attention in class…" Harry gave a slight smile.  
  
"What are you doing in your detention?"  
  
"Working on a project."  
  
"On what?"  
  
"On vampyres."  
  
"Vampyres!" Hermione squealed, excitedly. "A lot of people think that vampyres are hideous creatures that can't come out in the daylight. But really, daylight merely weakens them, it doesn't kill them. A lot of people are afraid of vampyres because they think if they feed off of you, they'll kill you. But they only kill you if they drink all of your blood. Usually, a vampire only kills when he wants to. Otherwise, it will just drink enough to sustain him until his next victim. The victim doesn't feel a thing, though he might be weak the next day."  
  
"Fascinating…" Ron said, sarcastically.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, Hermione, that's great." Harry muttered.  
  
"What did you learn about vampyres, Harry?"  
  
"Um… Contrary to popular belief, they cannot change into bats, but they don't have a reflection. Their senses are three times as sensitive as that of a human's. Like, they can hear sounds above and below a human's range and see things a mile away and things like that."  
  
"That's all?" Hermione sounded disappointed.  
  
"Well, I've learned more, but I should be going now. I was going to do some research in the library."  
  
"I'll come with you and help you!" said Hermione eagerly.  
  
"NO!" Harry shouted and Hermione was quite surprised. "I mean… no…"  
  
"What's gotten into you?" Ron asked.  
  
"Nothing!" Harry defended. "I just have to do this report on my own!"  
  
"I thought you said it was a project?" said Hermione.  
  
"Project, report, same thing!" Harry rolled his eyes. "Bye, guys. I'll see you later."  
  
"Yeah…" Ron said as they watched him leave. He then turned to Hermione.  
  
"Something's up with him."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Layla…" Harry smiled when he saw the graceful woman. She walked toward him and locked the door to her classroom.  
  
"I'm glad you came, Harry."  
  
"I'm glad you wanted me to come." Layla grinned and gave him a soft kiss. "Their suspicious, though. Ron and Hermione." Layla frowned. She might have to dispose of them.  
  
"Is that so?" she said, innocently. Harry nodded.  
  
"They're wondering why I'm spending so much time with you."  
  
"You're doing a project."  
  
"I told them that. One on vampyres. But Hermione…"  
  
"Don't worry about them," said Layla as she ran her hand through his messy black hair and softly touched his lips with hers. "Everything will be fine." Harry allowed himself to be taken away by the enchantress as she slowly and softly kissed him. Layla was unlike anyone else that Harry had ever kissed. She kissed him softly and gently, but not too soft. Just enough to leave you wanting more. And she was never too hard and she never moved too fast. She was very experienced, more experienced than Harry had suspected even a twenty-year-old to be.  
  
Her hands slid slowly down his back and then back up to his shoulders as she began to remove his robes. Harry made no move to stop her, though he was surprised at what she was doing. But what shocked him even further was he found his hands doing the same thing to her robes. Layla's hands moved up Harry's white shirt. That's when Harry finally pulled away.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Layla, sounding concerned.  
  
"I think this is moving a bit fast. We've only been together for a few weeks." Layla, nodded, understanding.  
  
"I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to do."  
  
"God, you're beautiful…" Harry shook his head with a smile. Layla grinned and kissed him softly again.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
This went on for a few weeks more, on weekends and after school and Ron and Hermione were extremely suspicious. They thought he'd have finished his project by now.  
  
"I'm going to the library," he told them one weekend. Hermione took it on her own authority to follow. Ron completely supported this action.  
  
"He might need help," he said.  
  
Hermione silently followed Harry as he walked down the halls and up or down a staircase. Finally, he led her to the Defense classroom.  
  
"But he said he was going to the library…" she muttered. He knocked on the door and it opened, revealing a beautiful looking Layla Ferris. Hermione frowned as Harry entered the room. She waited a few minutes, thinking he might just be picking up a few things or having a brief word with Professor Ferris. But after about ten minutes, he hadn't come out.  
  
Hermione frowned and she approached the classroom. She knocked but received no reply. Her frown deepened as she knocked again.  
  
"Professor Ferris?" she called. After a few seconds, she heard Ferris's voice.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Could I come in?"  
  
"No, Hermione, don't!" Ferris cried, rather hastily. There was some noise inside. Wanting to end this, Hermione decided to open the door. As she did, she both heard and saw Harry fall off of Ferris's desk. Hermione gasped at the scene before her.  
  
Layla Ferris stood there, by her desk, the strap of her blue dress falling off her shoulders. She was staring at Hermione, a mixture of worry, fear and anger in her expression. Hermione noticed her discarded robe on the floor. Hermione's eyes widened with surprise when she noticed that Harry wasn't wearing his robe either… Or his shirt.  
  
"Ow!" Harry cried, rubbing his neck as he tried to get up off the floor. As he pulled his hand away, he realized it was bleeding. "Must have scratched my neck when I… Layla?" Harry's back was too Hermione and he hadn't realized that she'd entered the room. But at the sight of his Professor's face, he knew she was there. Harry's body tensed. He didn't want to look at Hermione. His face drained of color.  
  
"Yes, Hermione?" Ferris said, the fear and anger disappearing from her eyes as she gave her student a smile as if it were a normal day and Hermione had just raised her hand to ask a question. Hermione gaped.  
  
"You… You… You're…" Finally, Harry turned his head to his best friend.  
  
"Hermione, it's not what you think. She was showing me… A defense technique. Against a vampire. It required me to lay down and pretend I was sleeping so—"  
  
"WITH YOUR SHIRT OFF?" Hermione screamed.  
  
"Um… Yeah."  
  
"Oh Harry…" Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head in disgusted disappointment. "This is… This is… It's so beneath you!"  
  
"I know. But Hermione, you don't understand."  
  
"I understand perfectly." Hermione turned to leave. "I'm going to get Dumbledore."  
  
"No, Hermione, listen!" Harry scrambled to his feet and ran out of the room after Hermione. "Hermione, wait!" he caught up with her in the hall. "Listen, please." Hermione finally stopped walking and turned to face him, but then she looked away.  
  
"I can't even look you in the eye, Harry! She's your teacher, your TEACHER!"  
  
"Hermione, have you ever been so attracted to someone and they were so attracted to you but there was little you could do about it for some reason or another? It's not really that disgusting. If she wasn't my teacher, you wouldn't be acting like this."  
  
"YES I WOULD!" Hermione screamed. "Yes I WOULD! Because it's gross! She's so much older than you, Harry!"  
  
"She's only three years older than I am. She's twenty!"  
  
"Still, she's your TEACHER!"  
  
"Forget about that fact, Hermione!" Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. He had a pleading look in his eye. "Promise me you won't tell anyone about this. Please, Hermione, not a soul! You'll ruin me!"  
  
"Harry…" Hermione's mouth was open and she was on the verge of tears. She slowly shook her head. "I have to tell someone. It's against school rules!"  
  
"Which is exactly why you CAN'T tell anyone! She'll be fired and I could be suspended or even expelled!"  
  
"But…" Hermione didn't know what to do.  
  
"Please, Hermione!" Harry was begging her, "Please! You're my best friend!" At those words, Hermione gave a little sob. Finally, she nodded.  
  
"OK," she said. "I won't tell anyone." Hermione gasped as Harry pulled her into a friendly embrace.  
  
"Thank you, Hermione, THANK YOU!" he said. When he let her go, he ran back to the Defense classroom without a second thought. Hermione let out a deep sigh.  
  
"If I tell…" she whispered. "It'll ruin you. But if I don't, it'll ruin me." She couldn't stand by and even think of the possibility of one of her favorite teachers having an affair with her best friend. It was just too much to think about.  
  
Had Hermione looked closer when she'd opened that door to that classroom, she would have noticed that Professor Ferris's eyes weren't their normal blue. They were a bright yellow. And had Hermione examined the bleeding spot on Harry's neck, she would have found two holes, not one scratch.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"It's OK, Layla!" Harry grinned at her as he entered the room. "She won't tell."  
  
"You have her word on that?" Layla asked. "You trust her?"  
  
"Of course I trust her, she's my best friend."  
  
"Very well," said Layla. She didn't trust Hermione. In fact, Layla thought, the only time she would trust Hermione was when she was dead. "I trust you, Harry." Layla approached him to kiss him again, but he backed away.  
  
"Can't today just be one of those days where we just talk? I mean, our relationship, it's not just sexual, is it?"  
  
"Of course it isn't!" said Layla. "But we talk in class and after class sometimes. The time we have together is limited." Harry nodded.  
  
"I guess I understand."  
  
"Besides, I thought this is what you wanted."  
  
"Well, I do, but…" Harry frowned. "Well, Layla, I guess… I think I love you. I mean really. I love you, Layla…" As Harry said this, Layla had begun to kiss his neck.  
  
"Mm…" she muttered in reply. There, she found the wound and her eyes flashed yellow once again as she bared her teeth. She drank some more before she decided to close the wound. Just as the drop of her blood fell onto the wound, Harry pulled away instantly and his hand flew to the side of his neck.  
  
"What's wrong?" asked Layla, as innocently as she could. But Harry was staring past Layla. She spun around and saw a mirror hanging on the opposite wall. As she looked at it, she saw Harry and him rubbing his bleeding neck. The look on his face was that of shock and terror.  
  
Layla turned back to Harry instantly, a look of desperation on her face. Because the moment Harry saw that mirror, the moment he knew…  
  
Vampyres have no reflections. 


	4. We All Have Our Demons

Chapter Three: We All Have Our Demons  
  
"Harry, just let me explain."  
  
"You… You TRICKED me!" Harry screamed.  
  
"Harry, it's not what you think!" Layla tried desperately to reason with the boy but Harry drew out his wand with his right hand, still rubbing the bleeding spot on his neck with his left. He was waving it at her angrily.  
  
"Put the wand down, boy, and listen to reason."  
  
"Is THAT why you found me so attractive? I was just something for you to feed off? I've been wondering why I kept falling asleep on my broom in Quidditch practice lately. I NEVER fall asleep on my broom!"  
  
"Harry—"  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"I am twenty years of age."  
  
"No, I mean really!" Harry hissed, harshly. Layla looked down at her feet, then up at Harry.  
  
"You don't want to know."  
  
"Why the hell did you do this to me?" he demanded. "Why?" Layla wanted to end it all at that moment, to just kill Harry and get it over yet. But she wasn't aloud to. Voldemort would have her head if she did. He wanted Harry all for himself. Layla could kill anyone except for him. Therefor, Layla had to continue to play the game, to win back his trust.  
  
"Harry, have I done anything to harm you? We've been alone countless times this year and I have not done a thing to harm you. Not all vampyres are evil. We just need to eat, that's all. I haven't killed in cold blood in years. I would never hurt you, Harry, never."  
  
"How do I know that for a fact? You and your kind kill many innocent people for no reason at all. You're a demon, a DEMON!" Harry screamed.  
  
"We all have our demons, Harry," said Layla. "Please. I haven't hurt anyone."  
  
"Have you fed off any of the other students? Hufflepuffs? Ravenclaws? Slytherins? Gryffindors? Have you fed off any of my friends? Have you hurt Ron or Hermione? Because if you touched either of them in any way, I swear—"  
  
"I have not touched a single student in this school," Layla answered, quietly. "Other than… Other than you."  
  
"I don't need any more stress, I have my fair share of it already, alright? I just want you out, get OUT!"  
  
"Harry, would you hear me out?" Layla cried, becoming frustrated. If this boy caused much more trouble, she might have to kill him and take Voldemort's wrath. She doesn't usually take orders from anyone anyway.  
  
"I've already heard you out!"  
  
"Just listen! I came to this school to teach so students can learn to defend themselves against my kind. Not all vampyres are heartless killers and everyone needs to feed. Among my kind, it is considered a sign of affection for the female to bite the male. Really, Harry. Please, I haven't hurt you, I swear." Harry slowly lowered his wand and Layla smiled. He was listening. Suddenly, an idea came to her as she approached him.  
  
"You know…" she whispered when he would let her get close enough. "You could be a vampyre. You'd be a strong one too. You wouldn't have to worry about glasses because you wouldn't need them. All your senses would be enhanced. A vampyre's senses are perfect and much better than the senses of humans. You could see every single eye of a fly on your hand, hear a cricket chirp a mile away, smell if a person had been in a room and feel if a person's blood is healthy just by shaking their hand…" Layla whispered into his ear.  
  
"And become a killer like you!" Harry hissed.  
  
"You don't have to kill, only when necessary, like me. You could do many great things, Harry. You could go up against Lord Voldemort and defeat him. We could do it together, Harry, it's that simple. He's no match for two vampyres, I know that for a fact, even with his Death Eaters behind him. I nearly killed him myself but his wretched minions were too much. One cannot be hurt by a rodent, Harry, but many rodents can bring you down. But together, we would be powerful enough to overthrow him and his Death Eaters. You could do much good in the body of a God…" Harry stiffened as the words and ideas swirled around in his head.  
  
"I don't…"  
  
"A vampyre does not have to be a demon, Harry."  
  
"But you feed off of blood… Human blood."  
  
"We can eat other things but they do not sustain us. You crave blood, Harry, you must have blood. But you need not kill to get it. You do not have to kill one innocent soul." Layla lied as fluently as she spoke the truth.  
  
If Harry consented to becoming a vampyre, she had two options. One of the options would be to take the risk and let him and then use him to destroy Voldemort once and for all. After the deed was done, his Death Eaters would follow her and she could make the most noble of them vampyres and her children. And depending on the way Harry acts after defeating Voldemort, Layla would either make him a Death Eater, or kill him. Of course, there was always the chance that Harry would not be enough to defeat Voldemort after all. Layla could just lead Harry to the forest claiming she'd make him into a vampyre and give him to Lord Voldemort like their deal entailed. He did, after all, consent to leave her be after this and never ask for her help again.  
  
"I don't… I don't want to be a vampyre."  
  
"You're sure about this now?" asked Layla. She wasn't about to give up now. But before Harry could answer, the door opened.  
  
"I heard Harry's screams, are you OK?" asked Hermione. Layla was now extremely frustrated. Hermione had broken her concentration and Harry's attention and she was furious. Of course, she couldn't kill her. She needed Harry's trust.  
  
"STUPEFY!" she screamed and Hermione fell to the floor. Harry ran to her. "I'm sorry, about that Harry, I wasn't thinking. I'm just so frustrated. Would you like to come for a walk with me in the forest?"  
  
"Sure," said Harry. "I'll be right there. I just want to check on Hermione."  
  
"OK." Layla waited but Harry stared at her.  
  
"Go on. I'll be right with you. I'll catch up, I just want to make sure she's OK."  
  
"Fine!" Layla sighed as she turned to walk down the hall.  
  
"We all have our demons…" Harry muttered as he scribbled a quick note and put the parchment in her robe pocket. He then stood up and went to catch up with Layla.  
  
Harry knew that Layla was trouble, but he couldn't help feeling drawn to her. He had to find out. And if she wasn't what she seemed, he had back up, providing Hermione found the note he had left her. He was going to find out for himself. 


	5. Scars of Desire

Chapter Four: Scars of Desire  
  
The purples and pinks and oranges merged together in the sky like a giant oil canvas, the magnified setting sun the center of the masterpiece. The artist was swiftly painting over the bright and glorious scene with a dark and velvety color sprinkled with sparkling diamonds.  
  
Layla Ferris led the unknowing Harry Potter to his doom, one way or the other.  
  
Layla's head was spinning as she contemplated what to do. But she had plenty of time for that when she reached the woods and rendered her student unconscious. The naïve fool. He actually trusted her. He actually thought he loved her. She chuckled at the thought and marveled at her own deception skills.  
  
"Something funny?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yes, actually," Layla said with a smile. "I was just imagining the look on Voldemort's face when he finds out that vampyres in fact are more powerful than he ever will be. Just think, Harry, you won't have to be afraid anymore! You could take him down with one hit." Harry stopped in his tracks and Layla looked at him with fake concern.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Harry eyed her with slight anger.  
  
"You think I'm afraid."  
  
"No, Harry, I don't think--"  
  
"Then why did you say it? Listen, Layla, you can't even begin to imagine what I've been through in my seventeen years of life! You can't even know-- "  
  
"And you can't even comprehend what I've seen and experienced, Potter!" Layla hissed, her eyes turning a ghostly yellow. "You weren't there when the Black Plague stuck, were you? You didn't hear the screams of innocent children dying in the French and American Revolutions! You didn't have Marie Antoinette's head roll to your feet! You weren't there when the rivers ran red with blood in Egypt. And you weren't there when the foolish ghost of a horseman terrorized that pleasant town of Sleepy Hollow!" Layla sneered at the boy and then added as an after thought, "Stupid git, can't even scare people right."  
  
"OK, OK, Layla, I'm sorry. Just, could you change your eyes? Please?" Layla smiled at the child.  
  
"Of course, my love," she whispered and caressed his cheek. "Now come, the night is young and the transformation must take place!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The pounding in her ears awoke the poor girl, lying alone in the dark corridor and the throbbing in her head was as ferocious as a hurricane. An ominous wind sent chills up her spine and he and his fellows danced throughout the stone hall whispering words in a long forgotten language. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if they knew something she didn't and if the barely audible words beyond comprehension were whispering warnings of trouble. The irking feeling of apprehensive nausea began to churn in her stomach.  
  
She looked in the classroom. The surface of the desk was awry with scattered papers. Some of the papers had fluttered to the floor. Hermione noticed the crimson stain on the cold stone floor. But where on earth was the owner of the blood?  
  
As the teenager stood up and straightened her clothing, she felt something in her robe pocket. She reached in and pulled out a piece of parchment.  
  
"Hermione," she read aloud. "I know you will say that what I am doing is a bad idea. But there's no time for you to be cursing about me. I need you to go to Dumbledore and ask if he knew that Layla Ferris was a vampyre. If he did not know, then something is incredibly wrong. I've no idea if this woman is telling the truth but there's only one way to find out without letting her get away and that was to go with her. Please, hurry to Dumbledore and tell him this news!" Hermione looked at the bottom of the letter to find her best friend's signature.  
  
"Harry, you stupid little." Stuffing the letter into her pocket again, Hermione sprinted as fast as she could down the hall to see Professor Dumbledore.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Where are we going?" The obvious question was finally voiced.  
  
"The forest."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"For privacy."  
  
"How long will this take?"  
  
"A few hours."  
  
"Hours?" Layla said nothing. Harry sighed.  
  
"OK," he said. "You got me."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I am scared. I've been scared half these seven years at Hogwarts. So scared, I don't even know what genuine fear is like any more. I've been beyond scared. I've been terrified for so long, the feeling doesn't even bother me any more and I ignore it. I've accepted the fact that Voldemort could find me tomorrow, or the day after that, and I'd be dead. But now, I think I remember genuine fear."  
  
"Is that so? Why?" Layla asked with exaggerated curiosity.  
  
"Because this is a different thing that I'm afraid of. I'm no longer afraid of dying, I'm afraid of living. You're offering me eternal life, and the price I have to pay for this is to watch my friends grow old. And to feed off the blood of others. And to tell you the truth, I'm terrified of it." Layla scowled, but said nothing. At this little speech, she decided that she was going to turn Harry into Lord Voldemort. It was people with sentiments like these who thought they were doing the vampyre kind a favor by putting them out of their misery. And it was vampyres with these sentiments that were threats to others of her kind and possibly, if the vampyre was powerful enough, a danger to Layla, Queen of the Vampyres herself. And she wasn't going to allow a threat like that to even enter her world.  
  
Then again.  
  
Layla decided on a better idea. She would keep the deception going, she would keep Harry's trust in her until she and him destroyed Lord Voldemort together. Then, she would regain her clan of vampyres and take her place as her queen. She would also, eventually, have to kill Harry once the job was done, once he posed a large enough threat to her. She was beginning to like him, but it didn't matter. One human was no different from the next. Though vampyres were a slightly different story, she was sure she'd have no trouble killing her own spawn. She smiled at her brilliant plan.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry," she reassured him. "You will have no fears about anything in a few hours. Not Voldemort, and not even of life."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"DAMN YOU GARGOYLE WHY WON'T YOU OPEN!" Hermione kicked the statue only to receive an aching foot.  
  
"Having trouble, Granger?" Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
"The last thing I need."  
  
"I see you're trying to get into the principal's office. May I ask why?"  
  
"I've no time for you Malfoy!" Hermione shouted as she banged on the stone statue.  
  
"Would it help if I told you that I know how to get in?" Hermione stopped pounding, but didn't look at him.  
  
"What would it cost me?"  
  
"Oh quite a bit. Lucky for you, he's not in there."  
  
"And where is he?" Hermione demanded through gritted teeth.  
  
"Tell me why you need him!"  
  
"Tell me where he is!"  
  
"I'll make a deal with you, mudblood. I'll lead you to him and you tell me what's going on."  
  
"Is that all you want?" Hermione was doubtful.  
  
"Of course that's all I want!" Malfoy looked surprised and Hermione knew there was more. But for now.  
  
"OK. If I may ask, why you haven't run away with the dark side yet?" Hermione scowled at the Slytherin beside her as he led her down the hall. The blond boy gave her a wry smile.  
  
"You see, I would, love, if it were not for your annoying female ways to try and reform a man."  
  
"Sorry?" Hermione said, not following.  
  
"I meant you as a general gender. You see, Ginger's been quite the stubborn type about my dark side fantasies. And you know how Ravenclaws get when they're angry. Quite violent. And whenever she gets angry with me, it just makes it so hard to break up with her because she's so attractive when she's fuming. But alas, she's too good for me. And when I say good, I mean--"  
  
"She's not the Death Eater type?" Hermione asked with a slight smile. So, it was Ginger Halliwell, a Ravenclaw girl she knew who had finally tamed the wild beast that was Draco Malfoy. She had been wondering which girl would be strong enough to do it.  
  
"Precisely. However, one day, you better believe I'll be on the opposing team and you and your pathetic friends are going down!" Draco sneered and was his old self again. But Hermione smiled.  
  
"For some reasons, your threats no longer bother me anymore now that you've been whipped by your girlfriend." Malfoy whipped out his wand and pointed the end of it at Hermione's chest.  
  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do you in right now, mudblood!" he hissed.  
  
"Because I have better things to do." Hermione yawned and pushed the wand away. "Harry's in trouble." Malfoy grinned.  
  
"Is that so? Is that why you need Dumbledore? What kind of trouble?" Hermione was in such a mood that Malfoy was no longer a threat to her, he was a nuisance. She shoved the boy out of the way.  
  
"Sod off, Malfoy," she said. "Tell me where Dumbledore is."  
  
"I'm keeping my end of the bargain, you keep yours," Malfoy grinned. He started rubbing the upper part of his right arm with his left. Hermione found this slightly odd, but finally, she sighed. What harm could he do?  
  
"Harry's gone of with a vampyre and I need to know what kind of trouble he's in, that's why I'm going to Dumbledore." Draco smiled a wicked smile.  
  
"Is that so." he sounded more pleased than disbelieving and his hand inched unnoticed into his robe pocket.  
  
"Yes, that's the whole truth."  
  
"And?"  
  
"There is no and. That's all I know." Quickly, Malfoy drew his wand out of his robe pocket and pointed it at Hermione. Hermione was too surprised at his movements to counter his attack as he cried:  
  
"Stupefy!" and she fell to the floor unconscious for the second time that night. Grinning, Malfoy jogged off out of the castle.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Come, child, the moon is rising swiftly!" Layla beckoned for Harry to follow her into the depths of the woods. The moon was indeed rising swiftly and its eerie glow cast shadows on the dark forest floor through the leaves. Layla led the young man deep into the forest where it grew darker until Harry could barely see the sky and the moon was nearly invisible through the thick and tangled web of the canopy of the forest.  
  
When Harry caught up with the old vampyre who appeared to be a young woman, he noticed she was illuminated in the dark by her yellow cat-eyes. She giggled and the grin on her face was visible even through the dark. A passing moonbeam hit Layla's face in just the right place so that the silver glow reflected on Layla's long ivory fangs. Harry paused in fear.  
  
"Don't be afraid, Harry," Layla said soothingly, approaching him with a warm smile. "I don't look that horrible, do I?"  
  
"You don't look horrible at all, Layla. You could never look horrible. But those eyes. They haunt my mind. Even before I knew about you, those eyes were in my darkest nightmares that I never even dared to tell anyone about. There's something about them." Harry refrained from saying 'something evil.' For he knew this would anger his lovely vampyre and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He wasn't sure he wanted to do this anymore. He shouldn't have gone with her, he should have gone to Dumbledore, gone to get help. But Layla had a power over him that he couldn't control. It was an unnatural feeling that overwhelmed Harry whenever she was near him. A feeling of lust and of wanting and of admiration and desire. It made him want to do anything to please his love and satisfy her in anyway he could. It was a twisted and abnormal thing that Harry was sure she used to control him with. And in that moment, he was unsure and doubting.  
  
Layla knew that look Harry held in those emerald eyes and scorned it. He was growing suspicious and losing his trust in her. She had to do this fast. She put on an innocent face and stroked his chin affectionately.  
  
"Don't be afraid. I am offering you eternity. You are with me, now." She ran her pale hand through his dark hair and knew that her power was engulfing him again as he closed his eyes and felt her hand caress his scalp. She took his hand in hers and used her sharp finger nail to draw a line of blood across his wrist, baring his vein.  
  
"With your blood." she whispered and then bared her own vein. "And with mine." She took Harry firmly by his arm and pressed the two gashes together. "Damnation is what surrounds a vampyre and damnation is what he becomes!" she screamed. Harry felled to his knees as he noticed his blood was swiftly and freely gushing out of his wound. When he was on his knees, she tilted is chin up to look at her and opened her mouth. She poured the blood from her wrist into the lad's mouth and nearly smothered him with it. He began spluttering and coughing and when she took her wrist away, blood framed his lips.  
  
"Look," she said nodding at his wound. Harry blinked. The blood had stopped. The wound was healing at an incredible rate. Layla grinned. "We are almost finished." She kissed him softly on his lips and moved down his neck. She bared her teeth and pierced his soft skin and feasted on his blood. When she was finished, she pulled away. She then tilted her neck to the side and brushed her long silver hair off of her neck, baring it for Harry.  
  
"DRINK!" she commanded. And Harry did so.  
  
And with that, the deal had been done, the pact had been sealed. And Harry could not turn back. 


	6. Blood on the Moon

__

A/N: Sorry it took a while, I'm writing my other series right now. But please stay tuned, this cliffhanger will be resolved quickly.

Chapter Five: Blood on the Moon

"Where are they? The sun has set!" Ron walked briskly down the hall, turning his head at various empty classrooms, halting only at the sounds of distant footsteps or echoes of a voice. "Please don't let me find them in a closet together or something. I'll kill them," the redhead muttered under his breath.

As he turned a corner, he yelped in pain as his head came in contact with hers.

"Ow!" cried the girl with curly fair hair.

"Ginger?" Ron asked with a laugh. "You're like the Hermione of Ravenclaw. What are you doing out here past curfew?" Ginger scowled a scowl that reminded Ron of Hermione.

"It's only curfew in a few more minutes!" she hissed. "I left my potions essay in the library and needed to go get it now incase I forgot to tomorrow morning."

"How's your eye?" Ron asked.

"Healed," she replied in a whimper. "I'd rather not talk about it right now. What are _you_ doing out wandering the halls?"

"Wondering if Harry and Hermione are playing a very cruel joke on me. I haven't seen either one since breakfast!" Ginger frowned.

"It's not like Hermione to play cruel jokes. Something's wrong."

"I figured that much out," Ron rolled his eyes. "I was just thinking maybe they were doing something together and forgot the time…" Ginger noticed the hurt in Ron's voice as he said it.

"You aren't suggesting what you know is not true?" Ginger said with sympathy. Ron gave her a weak smile to show his appreciation of the comment.  
"Let's just find them before they end up dead somewhere."

"Or worse…" Ginger muttered. Ron shot her a look. Ginger shrugged. "Well you never know with you three, do you?" Horrible thoughts swirling in his mind, Ron continued walking down the hall. 

__

"Hermione!" The seventh year witch was suddenly aware of her head lolling from side to side. She moaned as her migraine rushed back to her like cold waters and thundered in her ears like a silent, deafening storm.

"Oh… What happened?"

"Hermione, are you alright?" The girl blinked and saw a red haired boy with warm, deep brown eyes full of dreadful concern. She gave him a wan smile.  
"Except this horrible headache," she assured him. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned his head and called down the hall.

"Ginger, wait! She's fine!" His voice was full of tremendous relief. He then turned to Hermione again, and she saw that worry was still written across his face like invisible ink.

"Hermione, what happened! You were bleeding!" Ginger appeared by Ron's side as soon as he said this.  
"I was bleeding?" Hermione frowned and ran a hand through her bushy brown hair. She felt a matted spot and as she pulled her fingers out, she noticed dry crimson on her hands, like paint chips. Her eyes grew wide.

"Blood…" she muttered. "Blood… I was bleeding? On my head?"

"No, Hermione, you were bleeding from your foot!" Even in serious moments, Ron would never abandon his faithful sarcasm. It's something one could always count on from him.

"I must have hit my head hard when I fell…" Hermione muttered to herself. "Blood… oh, why is that word _bothering_ me! Wait… Where's Harry?" Hermione was suddenly extremely disturbed.

"Well, Ron said _you_ saw him last…" Ginger said, hesitantly. But Hermione couldn't remember. But she did remember Draco Malfoy and scowled. She turned to Ginger.

"How can you put up with him?!"  
"Who, Harry?" Ginger seemed confused.

"No, not Harry, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. Ginger was still perplexed.

"Hermione… I _couldn't_ put up with Draco. Or rather, he couldn't put up with me. We got in a fight a month ago and he hit me and we've never spoken since. You saw me in Arithmancy, why do you think I had that black eye? Didn't you know we had broken up?" An eerie feeling of apprehension swept over Hermione once more and the winds began to whisper in her ear, trying desperately to inform her of what had happened, and yet they were speaking in a dead language.

"Blood… Harry… Malfoy…" Hermione's hand flew to her pocket to find it empty. But the words in the letter swiftly returned to her as if the letter had been lost in her head and she'd just found it in an old drawer. "Malfoy took the letter…" she muttered.

"What letter?" Ron demanded, terrified at the look on Hermione's face. "What happened to Harry?!"

"Harry went to face a vampyre… On his own. We _have _to find Dumbledore!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry's breath was short and shaking, not from failing health, but from the shock and amazement at its improvement. He was astounded as he examined all the molecules on a drop of dew on a rose in the dim moonlight. He heard a small sound and he whipped his head upward to where it had come from and found out the sound he had heard was the wings of a bat, many meters above him.

His movements startled him as well. They were swift and graceful, like a cat. But that wasn't the only cat-like attribute he had inherited from his beautiful beast.

The horrible eyes that haunted his dreams now glowed as bright as the sallow moon in his own sockets. A cold feeling shivered down his spine.

But what horrified the boy most was his appetite. He was hungry. But it wasn't his usual craving for food.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head and gulping. His mouth seemed extremely parched. He needed water. Or better yet… "No," he repeated, appalled at the thought.

"Yes." The tall, slender form of Layla stepped out of the shadows. He looked up and horror. Instantly, he stood up and pointed his finger at her.

"You did this to me!" He accused. "YOU! Why did you do this to me?!"  
"You wanted me to," Layla shrugged. "Really, Harry, it's a benefit, not a burden. Think of the advantage you have over your enemy. Have you noticed you aren't wearing your glasses?" Harry's brow furrowed and his hands flew to his eyes, searching his face for the glasses he would never find.

"Where are they?" Harry demanded.

"I put them in your robes, Harry, but you won't need them any longer. You're fine." Harry hesitated for a moment, thinking of everything that had happened to him. Why had he agreed to go? But even as he voiced it, he knew the answer. Those eyes were so hypnotizing. Finally, his eyes were cast downwards as he slowly shook his head.

"You're evil," he muttered. He looked up and faced her. "How did it happen to you? How were you first… created?" Layla smiled, remembering the twisted day. She looked up at the moon and turned her back to him.

"Do you want to hear my story?" she whispered, half-laughing to herself. "No one has ever asked me to hear _my _story." Harry sat resolutely on a decaying log.

"Well I'm asking now."

"Do you know how many years I've lived? And do you know no one has ever asked how I have come to live all those years?" Harry saw Layla's head bend and her hair shone like white gold in the moonlight. She sadly shook it and Harry wondered if the weakness he saw in her right then was an illusion. Standing there in the pale moonlight she looked like a frail young girl who had done so many things she was not proud of. A gentle creature that had lived on this earth far longer than she wished to.

"Alright," she finally said, turning to him, her face set in an unreadable expression. "Let me tell you how the vampyre kind was born."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ron, Hermione and Ginger sprinted to the staff room where Ginger had informed them Dumbledore was at that moment. But as they reached the door, however, they hesitated.

"We're out past curfew," Ginger pointed out the obvious. Ron turned to her.

"If you're so concerned about curfew, Ginger, go back to Ravenclaw where you can be safe. We're used to this." Ginger put her hands on her hips, offended.

"Are you saying I'm not adventurous, Ron Weasley? You obviously don't know me at all!"  
"What, Miss. Follow-The-Rules?" Ron laughed.

"Hermione follows the rules," Ginger pointed out, pointing at the girl herself, who shrunk away from the finger.  
"Hermione's different. Go home." Frowning, Ginger gave him one last comment.

"If I wasn't looking for adventure, why on earth would I consent to dating a Death Eater?" Both Ron and Hermione gaped. Smiling and knowing she just revealed confidential information, Ginger flipped her head of curls and walked back down the hall towards her common room. Ron and Hermione stared at each other.

"Did you know he was a Death Eater?" they both demanded of each other. Hermione shook her head.

"I really need to get in on the school gossip more often. I'd hear these things."  
"Hermione, I don't think anyone—" But Ron was cut off as the door opened and a very surprised looking Professor McGonagall stood there.

"What are you two doing out of bed?" she demanded. "And where's your accomplice?"

"If I may ask, what are you doing in the staff room at eleven o'clock at night, Professor?" Hermione returned in as polite a tone as possible. Still, McGonagall was lacking sleep and took her query as insolence. She became defensive.  
"Don't take that tone with me young lady! It was an emergency meeting called by Dumbledore. Now you, explain yourselves!"

"Harry's gone, Professor," Ron explained hastily. "And we really need to see Dumbledore about a few details."

"Let them in, Minerva," Dumbledore's weary voice came from inside the classroom. Frowning, Hermione and Ron entered the room cautiously. They noticed Dumbledore frowning at papers scattered across a desk.

"I don't like this at all…" he muttered to himself. He blinked and looked up at the teenagers as if just noticing they were there.

"You two," he said. "Harry's missing, you say?" They nodded. "So is Professor Ferris. She disappeared without a word to anyone, which is why this meeting had been called. Professor McGonagall had stayed behind to help me with some items."  
"What items, sir?" Ron asked.  
"The Ministry," Dumbledore sighed. "There is no record of a Layla Ferris anywhere. Do you know anything about this?" Ron looked at Hermione, who turned to Dumbledore.

"I'm guessing that you weren't aware that Layla Ferris, sir was a—"

"Vampyre…" Dumbledore sighed the words. "I should have known, I should have guessed it was her. Vampyres can be so convincing. They can even fool an old man like me, especially her…"

"This is… Really bad news…" Ron shivered as a cold wind went down his spine. He straightened up. "Something really bad has happened."  
"What is it, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Harry," he said. "I… I can feel him."

"What do you mean you can 'feel him?'" Hermione's voice was unnaturally high. Dumbledore nodded at Ron, understanding.

"He is with Layla then?" he asked. Hermione turned back to the headmaster and took a deep breath. Her voice was normal again.

"Yes, Professor. Harry tried to face her alone. He told me in a letter Draco Malfoy stole. Sir, he's a Death Eater." Dumbledore nodded.

"Sadly, that is correct," he said. "We only just discovered it ourselves." Hermione and Ron both gaped.

"You knew he was a Death Eater?" Ron screamed.

"Quiet, boy, you'll wake the entire school!" McGonagall scolded from behind. Ron didn't even bother to apologize.

"How long?"  
"Recently." Dumbledore said the word in such a manner, it made it clear it was the end of that discussion. At least to Hermione, Ron couldn't take a hint.

"But _how_ recently?!"

"What my ignorant friend means, sir," Hermione said through a forced smile and elbowing Ron in the ribs at the same time, "That it's possible that Lord— The Dark Lord, is in league with this vampyre…" but Dumbledore was already shaking his head.

"No," he said sternly, "Not Layla. Not her."

"Why not, sir?" Hermione asked. "Who is she, really? Do you know?" Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"Sadly, I do. I have encountered her before. I wondered why she was so familiar…"

"Who is she?" Ron asked. They were both dangling over the edge of a cliff, gripping the hand of suspense to keep them from falling.

"She is only the most feared creature on the face of this earth since before Lord Voldemort's time. She is…"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"The First Vampyre," Layla sighed, sadly. She turned to her son and stroked his messy black hair. "This is how it began."


End file.
